


Mark Our Days with Frostbites and Blisters

by HouseAu3



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-23 14:34:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4880506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HouseAu3/pseuds/HouseAu3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was the strangest thing in the world, feeling like he was frozen from the inside. He gasped, shivering, trembling, holding the blanket close to chase away the bone-chilling coldness.</p>
<p>An AU where Len was affected by the explosion of the particle accelerator, woke up in S.T.A.R. Labs, and met Barry under very different circumstances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. of Changes

**Author's Note:**

> Originally I was going to, you know, write a short oneshot or something, but then it grew arms and legs and spiraled out of control. This is about ten times longer than what I had in mind.

They were in a safe house preparing for their next heist the day the particle accelerator went on. Leonard liked science just fine, but only when it was useful, and his sister never cared for it at all. He knew it was a big step in scientific development, but that was about where his interest ended. He’d look into it more once there was a practical application.

“I’ll go check the equipment one last time,” he told his sister, walking into the room where they stored the liquid nitrogen and guns. They had doors to bust and saves to crack, and it was always faster to break them than unlock them.

He frowned when he heard something hit the roof, and the windows started clattering in strong wind. It sounded like a storm outside. He put the gun back onto the table and looked up, just in time to see a bolt of thunder came down at him. He rolled out of the way and saw the gun explode, shooting shrapnels all around it. The barrels of liquid nitrogen were the first to get hit, and then his left calf and right eye. Leonard swore as he ran for the door, away from the rapidly spreading liquid nitrogen, ignoring the burning pain of his leg and the panic of losing an eye.

Something was wrong, he thought, staggering toward the door with his right eye shut. The liquid nitrogen was expanding too fast and reacting too violently. He cursed when his feet got caught, frozen in place. Soon the whole room were filled with white fog and frost were quickly climbing up the walls. One more step, Leonard told himself, freeing his feet from his boots, stepping out with his teeth clenched. One more. He tore his feet from the frozen floor, swallowing down his cry of pain, and reached for the door, but he was too slow, and the ice had covered the whole door. He punched it, but what should have been brittle and breakable was now solid and unmovable.

“Len!” He heard Lisa yelling his name from the other side, and thought to himself, at least this he hadn’t dragged her in. She was swearing, shooting at the door trying to break in. Leonard listened. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. He knew what was happening. He’d lectured his sister about the danger of nitrogen asphyxiation over and over again. Funny how this would be his damnation, if the ice spreading from his legs didn’t kill him first.

It was most illogical, what was happening. Nothing was acting as they should have. He sighed, calmer than anyone facing his own death had any right to be.

So, this is how it ends, he thought.

*

It wasn’t.

*

It was the strangest thing in the world, feeling like he was frozen from the inside. He gasped, shivering, trembling, holding the blanket close to chase away the bone-chilling coldness, but it didn’t work, it didn’t work at all. How was his heart still beating, when he felt like even his blood was freezing cold?

“Len!” Lisa barged into the room, breathless, relieved, bloodshot eyes filled with tears. “Dr. Snow! He’s awake!”

Leonard blinked, shaking his head to clear his mind. It took him more time than he would like to calm down enough to look around, and realized that he was in a room he’d never seen. It looked like a hospital ward, but through the window he could see equipments he didn’t recognize, and most importantly, the logo of STAR Labs.

“How do you feel?” A woman in a short white coat rushed in after Lisa. She snapped on a pair of gloves before tilting his head to the side to take his temperature. “Twenty-eight degree fahrenheit, slightly below your base line for the past few months.”

“Twenty-eight - ” Leonard croaked. That was far from the normal baseline. He was colder than ice for fuck’s sake. “Who are you?”

“Dr. Snow. Caitlin Snow. This is STAR Lab. Your sister came to us for help.” Snow took out a small bottle. “I’ll need you to urinate in this - ”

“Caitlin,” Lisa said with a laugh, giving her shoulder a pat. “Let me talk to him first.”

“Right, of course.” Snow took a step backward, leaving the bottle on the night stand beside him, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “Alone?”

“That would be preferable.” Lisa broke into a grin. “Or I would have to kill you.”

Snow rolled her eyes and walked out. There was a rapport between them that suggested familiarity. “What did I miss?” Leonard sat up. His voice sounded terrible, and it felt like something had not only died but also rotten in his mouth. “How long?”

“Here.” Lisa poured him a cup of water. “Nine months, Len. You had been in coma for nine months.”

Leonard drank slowly. The water felt pleasantly warm down his throat, but he suspected it was only cool for most people. “What happened?”

“Well, you were a giant unconscious ice statue when I managed to break into the damn room.” Lisa brushed the hair over his forehead back. It was longer than he was used to, but not what he expected after nine fucking months. She must have given him a haircut at some point. “I brought a shit load of doctors to check on you, but no one knew what to do. Then I heard about a guy who got struck by lightning the same night you got iced, and that the remaining staff of STAR Lab was helping him. I broke you in, and here we are. Now you are a giant conscious ice man.”

Leonard could feel a headache forming. “What am I?”

“Well, they called people like you meta-human.” Lisa scrunched up her nose. “They were talking crazy science I didn’t understand half the time, so I’m not really sure about the detail. Apparently the explosion of the particle accelerator changed the basic biology of some people that night. Barry, the other guy, got hyperactive cells, which is the opposite of what you have.”

“I must still be in coma,” Leonard said with a sigh. This was crazy. This was crazier than Lisa’s wildest dreams. “Do they know who we are?”

Lisa pursed her lips. "I didn't tell them, but Cisco - you'd meet him soon enough - found out who you are on the first night. At least they agreed to keep you a secret for now to avoid complications." At his questioning glance, she went on, "Barry's stepdad is a cop, and his stepsister is dating a cop."

"And they agreed because...?"

Lisa grinned. "Because I'm scary and you're cute."

Leonard gave her an eye-roll and, out of habit, reached out to cuff her head. She flinched away when skin met skin. Leonard stared at the thin layer of frost left on her forehead, and the coldness suddenly became unbearable.

"And I need to control this," he said numbly.

Lisa gave his shoulder a squeeze, taking care not to touch his skin. "We do."

*

Caitlin Snow had been his doctor for the last nine months. She blushed and choked on her words when he asked her if she had been giving him baths as well. He could see why Lisa enjoyed riling her up so much. She was a little uptight, but not in an unpleasant way. Cisco Ramon, on the other hand, had too much fun about almost everything, and had a crush the size of the universe on his baby sister. He described in vivid details about how Lisa, rocking a leather jacket and a pair of high heel boots, carried him in bridal style and whipped her gun out to demand help for her dear brother. Leonard simply stared at him until he squirmed and stopped talking, and then he stared some more.

“Stop it, Len,” Lisa grumbled at him, punching his arm. “I like him.”

Leonard raised an eyebrow at her. “Is that supposed to discourage me?”

Harrison Wells was formal, polite, and above all - Leonard didn't think his coworkers had noticed - cold. Leonard knew what it looked like, pretending to care. He recognized a calculating mind when he saw one. He wondered if Wells could see that in him too.

"A pleasure, Mr. Snart."

"Ah, flattery would get you no where. The pleasure is all mine, Dr. Wells."

Barry Allen, CSI, was still in coma. With his pink cheeks and red lips, however, it seemed like he could wake up any moment. Leonard noted, with a little bitterness, that he looked more alive than Leonard was, and probably would ever be. Leonard touched him; whether it was out of spite, or simply because he felt cold and Allen looked warm, he wasn't sure. He trailed a finger from his bare shoulder down to his arm then his palm, watching goosebumps rising on pale skin, and then he gave in to the urge to touch his lips, feeling the softness igniting fire in his finger, spreading to his arm, his chest, his heart.

The next few days was a blur. He did some testing with the three doctors with Lisa watching, learning about his condition. He teased Snow and frightened Ramon and annoyed Lisa, just because he could. At night, after everyone was gone, and Lisa left him with a knowing look, he paid Allen a visit, always touching, always seeking the warmth, because he could, and if he were honest with himself, because he wanted to.

"What would you become, I wonder," Leonard murmured, rubbing his thumb against Allen's cheek, watching as blotches of red formed under his skin. "Would you be fire? What would we be able to do to each other? Would you be able to melt this?" He clutched at his chest, feeling his steady heart pushing cold blood through his body. "Would you, Allen? Because I'm sick of it."

A hand shot out to catch his, warm fingers holding his ice-cold wrist. Leonard startled, but managed to keep his hand steady. He watched, while Allen's eyes fluttered open, blinking.

"You're cold," he slurred.

"I'm aware of that."

"Feel good," Allen said, and proceeded to pull Leonard's arm closer, nuzzling his palm, purring like an oversized cat. Leonard let out a startled laugh, one that was foreign to even himself, and covered Allen's eyes with his other hand, feeling eyelashes tickling his palm. For the first time since he woke up, he was able to, not forget, but feel at peace with the unyielding ice in his heart.

And then abruptly, because Leonard was never lucky, Allen sat up and scrambled back, watching his surrounding with frantic eyes, face flushed with embarrassment.

"Oh my god I'm so sorry I wasn't really awake and how were your temperature so low do you need a doctor?" he rushes out at once, breathless. "Wait, why do I have abs?"

Leonard chuckled. "You have a peculiar priority, Mr. Allen." He edged his hand closer to Allen's bare torso, close enough to feel the heat, but not close enough to touch. He watched in satisfaction as blood rushed into Allen's face, making his already red cheeks a shade darker. "You and I were both affected by the explosion of the particle accelerator. I got cold. You, no one knows yet."

"What? That's crazy - "

Leonard grabbed Allen's hand and put it against the side of his neck. "Feel that? My body's baseline temperature is thirty-two degree. Fahrenheit."

Allen stared, eyes wide, mouth gaped. "That's impossible."

“Well, Barry,” Leonard caught his eyes and smiled. “We are the impossible.”

*

“Leonard Snart.”

“That’s the third time you’ve repeated my name.” Leonard quirked his lips. He hadn’t exactly hidden the fact, but Allen’d never asked what his last name was, and what he did for a living. “You can call me Len if you have so much trouble remembering it.”

“That’s not - ”

“Or, do you just enjoy saying my name?” Leonard drawled, and chuckled at the way Allen’s face reddened. It made his hand itching to touch, to feel.

“Asshole,” Allen mumbled. “I should have brought you in.”

Leonard smirked the smirk Lisa had always told him was the most infuriating thing in the world. “You and I both know normal prison won’t hold me now, not that it did before.”

“Narcissistic asshole,” Allen amended, rolling his eyes. “Come on, Caitlin’s waiting for you.”

*

Gave a man a gun, and he would use it to kill. Gave him power, and he would abuse it. Not Allen, though, never Allen. It didn’t take long for him to get used to his power, and for him to start using it on the most mundane of things, but above all he wanted to protect, to help, to please.

So it didn’t surprise Leonard at all, when Allen said he wanted to confront Clay Mardon. It also wasn’t surprising when Wells objected. He even anticipated Allen asking Snow and Ramon for help, and they agreeing. What he never expected, though, was him insisting on tagging along.

“Scarlet - ”

“Oh my god I told you not to call me that.” And then he was gone, so fast Leonard could only see a red blur, but he suspected Allen’s face was the same color as the trail he left.

“You’re going, aren’t you?” Lisa asked. She knew the answer already.

“I wouldn’t be fast enough,” he said, but he shrugged on his parka and ran out anyway.

Of course he wasn’t fast enough, even though he had broken dozens of traffic laws getting there on his bike. He was just in time to see the giant tornado dissolve, and Clay Mardon raising a gun at Allen. Without hesitation, Leonard shot a bolt of ice at him, freezing both the gun and his hand. Mardon cried out in pain and twisted around to face him. Allen immediately tackled Mardon onto the ground, holding his arm behind his back. His grip wasn’t tight enough, though; Mardon managed to elbow him in the eye before Leonard took Allen’s place and did it properly.

“Remind me to teach you how to fight.” Leonard froze Mardon’s wrists together behind his back, earning a disapproving glare from Allen. “Your step-dad was about to shoot him. You like that better?”

“What? Oh.” Allen looked back at detective West, who had his gun raised, finger curled around the trigger. “Um.”

Leonard pulled up his hood and tugged Allen’s arm. “Drop us back at the lab before you have your big revelation,” he said lowly. “Come on, Scarlet.”

“Barry?” West called out, approaching, gun aimed squarely at Leonard.

“Barry,” Leonard whispered at Allen’s ear, and felt himself get whisked away.

It was exhilarating, the speed. Air parted to make way. Sound lost in vacuum. At the blink of an eye he was standing at the entrance to STAR Labs, and the next second Mardon was shoved into his arms.

Both of their clothes were on fire.

Leonard snorted and put the fire out with a wave of hand. “Much appreciated.”

Allen glared at anything but Leonard’s bare chest. “Now we’re even,” he said, and then he was gone, a trail of red illuminating the darkness of night, like the lightening he was.

“Oh, far from it.”

*

Allen alternated between avoiding him like the plague and watching his every move like a hawk. There had been days Leonard never saw Allen except for the occasional blur out of the corner of his eye, which was pretty impressive, considering Leonard was at STAR Labs almost all the time, and Allen was needed just as often; then there were days Leonard could practically felt Allen’s gaze boring into his back, even when he wasn’t in STAR Labs, especially when he wasn’t in Star Labs.

He was oddly unconcerned about the fact that someone from the CCPD, who probably knew everyone in the CCPD, and was secretly a superhero with super speed, kept a close eyes on him. He was a lot better at controlling his power now, and really didn’t have a good reason to stay at STAR Labs as often as he did. Lisa at least had Cisco as an excuse, even though they refused to call what they were doing “dating”. Leonard just… wasn’t awfully interested in most things these days. It was like his mind had been turned cold the same day his body was. He forgot to eat for an entire week because now he could go without for even longer. He didn’t plan a heist or a robbery, because he’d lost the thrill he’s always felt when a plan came together. He stopped having sex, because how did you when you were literally as cold as ice?

He watched Allen, though, and touched him as often as he could. Lisa had noticed, and teased him about it, but shut up when he casually told her how Allen made the cold bearable, somehow. It sounded awfully like a confession, but Leonard didn’t feel particularly in love. He’d never loved, to be honest, never knew what it felt like.

Hatred, he knew, and what he felt about Allen was quite possibly the polar opposite of that, so it must have meant he was at least very fond of the kid. He liked the way Allen laugh, bright and open until he was beetroot red and breathless. He liked the way Allen smile, warm and easy, his eyes crinkling and twinkling. He liked the way Allen grinned after a run, face flushed and eyes glinting with childlike giddiness.

It made Leonard want to hate him, because he couldn’t be the only thing Leonard cared about aside from Lisa, and maybe Mick. He couldn’t hold such a place in Leonard’s heart that Leonard would risk his own safety for him. He couldn’t be Leonard’s vulnerability; one was enough for him.

And yet, Leonard found himself pushing Allen away and sealing him in a wall of ice, before he froze Kyle Nimbus in place while the green mist was trying to kill him. The last thing he heard before he passed out was Allen frantically knocking on the ice and calling him a reckless ass, and Leonard laughed, choked off and grating, because Allen was the reckless ass; he was just stupid enough to follow.

When he woke up, trembling and gasping for air, Lisa punched him in the face and pulled him into a hug so tight it might crush his bones, and Allen jerked awake at his bedside, fear and relief and anger warring on his face.

Their eyes met, and neither of them looked away while Lisa cursed at him for being an idiot, and threatened to cut him up into pieces and fed him to the polar bear if he ever did something like this again, until she finally fell asleep on him. Allen sat down on his bed, then, slowly, carefully, his hip pressed against Leonard’s thigh, lessening the coldness, relaxing his rigid muscle.

“Wasn’t so fun when you were the one watching, was it?” Leonard murmured, and then he couldn’t help but add, ”Even when it was someone like me.”

Allen frowned. “Someone like you?”

“Don’t play dumb, Scarlet.” Leonard chuckled, moving his hand up and down Lisa’s back. “Most people in this city would gladly watch me die.”

“You haven’t done what you did since you woke up, though.” Allen threw a glance at the hand he had on Lisa’s back. “You’ve changed.”

“I have,” Leonard said easily. “But not in the way you think, or hope for. I’m still, by your definition, not a good person.”

Allen fell silent, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Leonard watched, or rather, stared, as his lips went white with the blood forced out by pressure, and turned an even deeper red when blood rushed back in.

“Does it matter,” Allen started, breaking the silence, “why you stopped? Should your reason matter?”

Leonard smiled a little, shifting his leg closer to Allen. “It’s not my answer you need.”

Allen smiled back, tentative. “I suppose not.”


	2. of Truth

Leonard had a scar on his face, from the tail of his right eyebrow to his nose bridge, a jagged red cut that had, according to Snow, almost blinded his right eye. Leonard found himself staring at it from time to time. He had had plenty of scars before, and he had never been self-conscious about them, but this felt different somehow, like it had cut him open and exposed something raw inside him, something he hadn’t even known existed.

Allen _stared_.

He tried to hide it, worrying about hurting Leonard's feeling, of all people, but Allen was spectacularly bad at lying and pretending; he had caught Allen staring more times than he could remember, and he was good with numbers.

"Something on my face, Scarlet?" Leonard sneered, an unintended harshness bleeding into his voice.

"No, it's - " Allen's hand waved around in a circular motion, searching for something to say. "It's not what you think, all right?"

Leonard laughed, humorless. "And what am I thinking?"

“That it showed your weaknesses, or something equally ridiculous.” Allen reached out almost impulsively. Slender fingers found the red ridges and trailed along, feather light touch mapping the scar tissue that stayed raw even after close to a year. Allen’s eyes were soft, so soft Leonard couldn’t bear looking at him, but at the same time couldn’t tear his gaze away, either. There was fire burning under his skin, and at this moment, he felt warmer than he’d ever been.

“And what are you thinking?” Leonard asked, his voice soft and hoarse. He hated it, hated how vulnerable he sounded, how cautiously he was breathing, how his hand had somehow found its way to Allen’s wrist of its own accord.

“It makes you look real,” Allen said, his eyebrows furrowed like it was the greatest mystery in the world. “You have this larger-than-life persona, Leonard Snart, criminal extraordinaire. You shouldn’t be real, but this - ” His touch turned firmer, bolder. A small smile found its way to his red lips, a subtle curve Leonard wanted to touch, to taste. “I can’t simply see you as a criminal douchebag now.”

“You sure know how to flatter a man, Scarlet,” Leonard said, but he was smiling, a genuine one that felt too tight around his eyes, pulling muscles he rarely made use of.

“I’m trying to be nice, you ass,” Allen said with a laugh, swatting Leonard’s cheek playfully before pulling his hand back, his eyes bright with amusement. “And stop calling me that.”

“Why not? It has a nice ring to it.” Leonard leaned in closer to Allen, and murmured, “ _Scarlet_ ,” slow and low, like he was caressing the word, ending with a breathless sigh. Allen blushed furiously, but his smile didn’t falter at all; actually, it had become wider, less reserved, a smile Allen normally saved for his friends and family, never Leonard.

“Please just call me Barry.”

Leonard hummed. “I rather like my nickname for you, but I guess I can indulge you for the time being.” He extended his hand. “Barry,” he said, testing the way the word rolled off his tongue. “Call me Len.”

“Well, I was considering calling you Captain Cold. Cisco’s pretty proud of that.” Leonard blew snow at him, leaving frost on the tips of his eyelashes. Barry laughed, taking Leonard’s hand, his grip surprisingly firm and strong. “Len.”

And that added to the things he liked about Barry, the way he called him Len.

*

Mick mocked him for getting soft, and called him out on using Lisa as an excuse for helping the good guys. Len told him it wasn’t out of the kindness in his heart. Mick simply stared at him, and said it didn’t fucking matter why he did what he did; he had turned away from his old life, and that was what counted.

“What are you going to do?” Len asked.

Mick smirked. “You and your precious boy wouldn’t run into me, if that’s what you’re asking.”

True to his words, Mick never started anything in Central City. Len briefly considered if it was an bad idea to leave Mick to his own devices, but it wasn’t his job to keep Mick out of trouble when they weren’t working together; they were partners in crimes, and at some point Len would have even called him a friend, but a big part of their relationship was built on Len giving Mick a chance to indulge in his fascination of fire, and that simply wasn’t the case now.

He wondered if not feeling any regret made him cold, but he had known he was cold even before it became literary. It had always been easy for him to cut ties, and to betray. He wondered if one day he would do the same to Barry, and if it was possible for him to turn his back on Lisa.

*

Their first kiss was an accident, if it could even qualify as one. It was the first time Barry agreed to let Len teach him how to fight, albeit reluctantly. Barry protested that his stepdad had taught him boxing when he was a kid, to which Len replied that it was exercise, not fighting.

Len fought dirty. He had learned to when he was smaller, shorter, lacking in strength and wasn’t that great in agility. There was no place for honor in survival, and he would do anything to give himself an edge. He brought guns to a knife fight, rifles to a gun fight, and he would plant bombs or use poison to eliminate his enemies before they even had a chance to fight back. He kneed men in the balls when he got the chance, dug his fingers into their eyes when he needed to, and didn’t refrain himself from fighting back when women attacked him.

Barry was, unsurprisingly, terrible at hurting people. At least he was better at taking a hit, minimizing the damage when taking a blow, but it wasn’t exactly comforting when Len thought about how he had learned to do that.

Len had excelled at taking hits at a young age, in exchange for Lisa not having to learn that.

“Come on, Barry, just fight back.”

He had been trying to get Barry to properly fight back for three fucking hours. He’d taunted him, bringing up his hopeless crush on his stepsister, telling him how he wasn’t good enough compared to Iris’ boyfriend, mocking him for trying in vain to keep the city safe, saying he was too weak, and not fast enough.

Len had always been good at spotting weaknesses, and every word he said had hit Barry where he was most tender, ripping raw wounds open, but the damn kid still couldn’t throw a punch like he really meant it. He sighed and thought to himself, fuck it. If he had to cross a line to get Barry to fight back, so be it.

“Did you really know what you saw? People like you and I didn’t exist before the explosion. How could someone kill your mother back then? Maybe your father - ”

Barry lunged at him in a blur, breaking his unspoken rule not to use his speed against Len. Len let a couple punches land, and then caught his wrist to flip him to the ground, pinning him to the floor with a knee on his chest. Barry growled and wrapped his legs around Len’s waist to roll them over, straddling Len’s laps. Len struggled to get up, pulling at the collars of Barry’s shirt, and their lips clashed when they toppled back onto the floor with Barry on top of him.

Barry scrambled back with wide eyes, his face flushed for an entirely different reason. “Oh god, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to - ”

“Barry,” Len cut him off with a sigh. “I just accused your father of murdering your mother. You should be angry at me. You _were_ angry at me.”

Barry stopped blabbering for a moment. “Well, that was a dick move, but you didn’t mean it.”

Len raised an eyebrow at him. “I meant it.”

Barry snorted. “No, you didn’t. You didn’t mean any of it.”

Len would have told him not to be so sure, but of course Len didn’t mean any of the things he had just said. It wouldn’t achieve anything except for putting hurt back into that pair of eyes, anyway, and Len wouldn’t want that, would he?

“I give up,” Len said, lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling. “You can keep being the knight in shining armor. I’d do the dirty fight from now on.”

Barry chuckled and shifted over to Len’s side, fingers gently pressing the bruise on his cheek. “Sorry about this.”

Len waved a hand dismissively. “It’s nothing. Lisa hits harder than you do even when she’s in a good mood.”

“Jerk,” Barry huffed with a laugh before lying down next to him, pulling Len’s arm to his chest and pressing his face against Len’s shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Len asked, blinking.

“Cooling down,” Barry murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Len couldn’t stop the chuckle from escaping his mouth. “Is that all I am to you? I’m hurt, Scarlet.”

“Don’t call me that,” Barry retorted, more out of habit than annoyance, and let out a sleepy yawn. Len didn’t know what possessed him to do what he did next, but he rolled to his side, extracted his arm from Barry’s grip, only to snake it under Barry’s head, letting Barry rest on his arm, and then he wrapped his other one around Barry’s body.

That was how Ramon found them, lying on the ground with Barry soundly asleep in Len’s embrace. Ramon gaped at them, took out his phone to not so stealthily take a picture, and started typing furiously. Len could only guess what he was texting to Lisa, or possibly Snow. He didn’t care much. He didn’t care about anything except for the unrelenting warmth of Barry Allen, who had enough heat for the two of them, who warmed him to his very core.

“Do you, um, need a blanket or something?” Ramon asked, ever the helpful one. “Or pillow?”

“We’re fine, Cisco,” Len said, and then added as an afterthought, “but thank you.”

Ramon’s jaw might have dropped, Len wasn’t entirely sure. They were left alone after that. No one, not even Lisa, had come to tease him, or take more pictures of them. He listened to Barry’s steady breathing, feeling the rise and fall of the chest against his belly, and thought to himself, this must be what contentment felt like; Len was born insatiable, coveting what he couldn’t have, taking what he shouldn’t have, but at the moment, he was content with simply holding Barry, who never flinched away from his touch, who found his coldness comforting.

He could love Barry, he thought, if he were the kind of person who fell in love.

*

He’d made peace with the fact he’d likely risk his own life for Barry if circumstances called for it; what he didn’t understand was how Barry could be so reckless in risking his own. He ran head first into everything, often without even an idea of a plan in his mind, especially if people he cared about was involved. His sense of self-preservation was even worse than Mick’s, for fuck’s sake.

“Stop!” Len shouted, putting up a circle of ice around them. Barry almost smashed into the wall of ice, but managed to stop before he broke his nose.

Snow and Ramon stared at him like he had finally lost his shit. Lisa smirked at him in a way that clearly said I told you so. Wells simply watched.

Barry, as the subject of this conversation, looked confused.

“You have super speed, Barry. Do you not realize what the biggest advantage it gives you?” Len brushed his hair back. It still felt weird, having his hair long enough to tug at, but Lisa seemed to like it, so there was that. “You have time to plan before you act.”

“But - ”

“You’re smart, Barry, and you’re surrounded by three geniuses - ” Lisa let out a grunt of protest. “Four,” Len amended with an eye-roll. “How much time do you think we’d need to come up with a decent plan and prepare you accordingly before you rushed into dangers?”

Len closed their distance and laid a hand on Barry’s chest. His heartbeats were quick, but steady. “Use what you have, Barry. Use me. Take me with you.” His voice had dropped so low, it might as well be a whisper. Barry looked at him with wide eyes, and there was something dangerously close to awe in them, but Len held his gaze.

“You have a point,” Barry finally said, but not before clearing his throat with an awkward cough.

“I always do,” Len replied in a deceivingly calm voice, covering up the loud pounding of his awakening heart.

*

Ramon made his entire wardrobe fireproof, because “skin tight leather suit really doesn’t flatter you - um, that’s what Lisa said. I’m sure you'd look good in anything.” They got Souci back a couple days after. The image of Barry’s naked body might have forever burned into Len’s brains, but nothing went terribly wrong with that. General Eiling unfortunately got away, but Len managed to disarm him before he could do any more damage.

Souci left after that, giving him a peck on his cheek and telling him not to trust Wells in a whisper. Len didn’t tell her he never did, but gave her a brief smile, and told her to stay away from trouble.

They put Woodward away in the pipeline, and Len might have roughed him up a little more than necessary. Woodward taunted Barry from the other side of the glass, calling him a coward who hid behind his boyfriend’s back; Barry, blessed him, completely missed the point, and spluttered “he isn’t my boyfriend” with a red face.

Len’s laugh did make Ramon drop his jaw this time, while Snow looked between him and Barry with an owlish expression on her face. _Lisa would be so mad that she missed this_ , Len thought. Oh well, Ramon would fill her in. He probably even had an audio recording of this exchange. Len’d have to ask him later.

“You make a good team,” Snow told him that night, when he was about to leave STAR Labs. Len paused, turned around to face her, and tilted his head.

“But?”

Snow gave him a tight smile. “No but. Just wondering what your angle is, or if there even is one.”

Len shrugged. “I don’t have an answer to give.”

Snow nodded. “I figured as much.”

*

Len didn’t dislike Iris West, but he didn’t particularly like her, either. Barry had too many weaknesses as it was, and she was a major factor in about half of those weaknesses. He could see why Barry fell for her, though; she was open, warm, and loyal. Barry deserved to be with someone like that, who could love without reservation.

“Who the hell are you?” She grabbed a high heel by her side and pointed it at him menacingly. Len had no doubts she wouldn’t hesitate to smash it into his skull if she felt threatened by him.

“I came to talk,” Len said levelly, raising his hand in surrender. He didn’t need a weapon to hurt her. He didn’t even need to touch her to hurt her, but she didn’t need to know that.

“Look, if it was about my articles - ”

“You would get him killed one day,” Len said, not out of malice, but simply stating what he knew was the truth. “You had to protect yourself better, because there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you. He’d hurt for you. He’d die for you. He might even kill for you.”

Iris frowned at him, her mind spinning. “But I’m nobody.”

Len smiled, perhaps with a little bitterness. “You’re somebody to him.”

“That doesn’t make sense, why would he - ” Iris shook her head. “Who is he?”

Len considered telling her, and thought, why not? He’d always found it stupid for detective West and Barry to keep people close to them in the dark. Their loved ones were in danger whether they liked it or not; not knowing the nature of such danger couldn’t possibly make anyone safer.

“He would hate me for this.” Len held his hands together, and smiled. “I’m going to tell you anyway.”

Iris’ eyes snapped up to him, sharp and knowing. She must have pieced something together, and Len could admire her for that.

“He’s Barry Allen, the red streak, the scarlet speedster, the Flash.” Len flipped his palm upward, and formed a snowball over his hand. “The impossible.”

*

Iris stopped writing about the Flash after that. She even deleted all the old entries she’d written about the Flash, and told him she had various better and anonymous channels to spread the words. She warned him she was going to talk to Barry and her dad, though, and that she wouldn’t lie to them about how she found out. Len knew as soon as Barry barreled into STAR Labs that she had had her talk.

“You have no right to do that!” Barry shouted at him, shoving him against the wall, and Len let him, watching him, wondering how he could still feel fond about the man who looked angry enough to break every bone in his body.

“You don’t break promises,” Len said calmly. “So I broke them for you.”

“Fuck you! I thought I can trust you!” And this, this did sting, at least a little, but it was probably for the best. Barry should be wary of him. He shouldn’t trust someone as broken and cold as Len. It never ended well.

“I thought you - ” Barry swallowed back what he was going to say, and wiped away tears that hurt Len more than anything. “Fuck, I can’t, I can’t.” He let go of Len’s shirt and ran away, leaving Len staring at the mess he’d made; the floor was covered in papers. A chair had toppled over. His heart was threatening to jump out of his mouth.

“What a dick,” Lisa said, emerging from the doorway. Of course she was listening in.

“Well, it could be worse.” Len forced a chuckle. “He could put me in the pipeline.”

“Like I would let him.” Lisa walked up to him and pulled him into a hug. Len didn’t really need one, but he welcomed the warmth of her body anyway. “He isn’t worth it.”

Len wanted to ask her what she meant by “it”. His heart? His feelings? Or maybe his life? If so, he would argue Barry was, because Len didn’t have a big heart, his feelings were at best quiet, at worst silent, and his life frankly didn’t mean much for anyone except for Lisa.

“We’ll see,” he said, closing his eyes. Maybe he’d lost him, maybe he hadn’t.

*

Barry avoided Len after that, more thoroughly than he had before. Len didn’t even catch glimpses of him most days. Lisa grew increasingly pissed at Barry, and pressured Ramon into talking some sense into his friend, but Barry could be really stubborn when he wanted to, and ignored Ramon’s pleading

And because the universe was an asshole most of the time, Farooq just had to happen now, and took Barry’s power from him. The world was out to get them, Len swore, or maybe just to get him. At least Lisa wasn’t at the Lab right now. Thank god for small miracles.

“Go to the station. Help Joe and Iris, please.” It was the first thing Barry had said to him since he told Iris his secret. Len supposed he could be cruel, but looking at Barry’s terrified eyes, he simply shook his head, and stood his ground.

“Len, please. I know I’ve been harsh to you, but please. I can’t lose them.” Barry grabbed his hand and held on so tight it felt like his wrist was burning. “Lisa wouldn’t be here. Even if she is, I wouldn’t let anything happen to her, I swear. I swear on my life.”

Len heaved out a sigh and reached out to wipe the tears from Barry’s eyes. “You really don’t understand, do you?”

“What are you - ”

Len shoved him toward Snow and sealed off the door behind him. He could hear Barry yelling and cursing at him, and Wells telling Ramon and Snow to try to jumpstart him. How much could he get Barry to hate him, he wondered. How far would he be able to push Barry away?

“I suggest you to surrender,” Len said when Farooq emerged from the hallway. ”I’m not very patient these days.”

Farooq stared at him, lightening crackling between his hands. “I only want Wells dead.”

Len sighed. “Normally I would say go ahead, but someone I care about would sooner die than let you kill him. I can’t let that happen.”

“Then you’re in my way.” Farooq struck him with electricity as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Len found out the hard way that it was difficult to dodge lightning. He pulled himself onto the table and blocked Farooq’s attack with ice while his left calf was spasming uncontrollably.

“Stop struggling.” Farooq growled. Hid eyes darted to the sealed door behind Len, and Len took the opportunity to tackle him to the ground. He formed an ice blade on his right arm and was about to cut Farooq’s throat when Barry suddenly yelled “no”, and Len’s posture faltered, missing Farooq’s neck by an inch.

He’d always known Barry would be the death of him, Len thought, before Farooq grabbed his arm and shocked him into oblivion.

*

“You know, this is really getting old,” Lisa told him when Len opened his eyes, and Len was inclined to agree. He had blacked out way too many times ever since he was turned into a metahuman.

“Farooq?” Len asked.

“Dead. Overloaded himself, they said.” Lisa pursed her lips. “Apparently Barry got his power back as soon as he saw you got hit, and became even faster. Farooq couldn’t handle that kind of energy.”

“And Barry?”

“Ran off to check on Iris and Joe.” Lisa scrunched up her nose, which suggested she was annoyed at Barry for doing that, but not as angry as she would normally be. Noticing his curious look, Lisa said with a pout, “To his credit, he did hesitate a whole lot when his stepdad and his first love were held in hostage. And he might have apologized a million times before he left you.”

“And there was nothing else for him to do here,” Len pointed out.

“I hate it when you get all logical.” Lisa huffed. “I still think he’s been a dick and doesn’t deserve you.”

Len snorted. “Only you would think that.”

Iris, surprisingly, came to visit him after Ramon and Snow checked on him. She pulled a chair toward his bed and sat down. She looked tired, but otherwise unscatched.

“I heard I had you to thank for risking yourself to protect Barry, twice.”

Len shrugged. “Out of selfishness.”

“Doesn’t matter. You did save him and I’m thankful for that.” She fished out an apple and a knife from her bag, and started peeling it like it was the most natural thing in the world. “My dad said thanks, too, by the way. He’d never come visit you in person, though. He’d have to arrest you if he sees you.”

“He said thanks, huh?”

“Well, he didn’t exactly say it, but his eyebrows did this weird dance when Barry told us what happened here.” Iris wiggled her eyebrows at him. “Which, as his daughter, I took as disbelief and gratitude.”

Iris cut the peeled apple into pieces on her palm with practiced ease, and put them into a paper bag to offer to Len. He accepted it with an amused smile. “Anything else?”

“One thing.” Iris wiped the knife clean before putting it back into her bag. Len briefly wondered if she had brought it just so she could peeled apple for him for some unknown reasons, or if she did have a knife with her every day. “Barry has been stupid, but he’ll come around. He really do care a great deal about you.”

Len’s eyebrows jumped up. “Shouldn’t you be warning me off?”

Iris shrugged. “If Barry thinks you’re worth it, then you are.”

But he wasn’t.

Len didn’t dwell on anything, especially not matters of the heart, but he found himself agonizing over what Iris had said in his head again and again. He hadn’t noticed Barry until Barry was practically looming over him.

“Well, someone’s late to the party.”

The corners of Barry’s mouth twitched a little. “Sorry about that. Joe wouldn’t let me go until I explained everything.”

“About your whole history with a wanted criminal, I assume?”

Barry dropped down onto the chair, resting his head on the bed. “I’d apparently forgotten to tell him we’d known each other since the very start.”

That was a good way to put it, Len supposed. The explosion of the particle accelerator, the start of everything. A lot of people had been affected by the incident, and a lot of them had been seeing their life as pre-explosion and post-explosion. Funny how Len had seen his life more as pre-Barry and post-Barry.

“It has been a few months.”

“Feel longer,” Barry mumbled, and then hesitantly put his hand on Len’s arm. It was like a dam had been broken, and Len felt himself flooded by warmth. _It was just a hand on his fucking arm_ , Len laughed at himself, but he missed the heat. He missed it so damn much. How the hell had he let himself go this far?

“Why are you here, Barry?” Len asked quietly. “Nothing’s changed. I’m still the same person.”

“ _Exactly_ ,” Barry said, threading their fingers together.

 _What you wanted I couldn’t give_ , Len wanted to yell at him, but it had been a long day, and a long week without Barry, so Len brought their join hands to his cheek and closed his eyes, letting himself be lulled into a dreamless sleep by the thumb caressing his hand, and the fingers rubbing circle on the nape of his neck.


	3. of Love

Having the Arrow here complicated things, to put it mildly. For one, he seemed awfully familiar with Central City’s criminal activities, and shot at Len as soon as he spotted him. Barry caught the arrow and got into a shouting match with the man himself, which apparently was remarkably surprising if the blonde girl’s expression was anything to go by. It turned out Barry was an Arrow fanboy and may have had a crush on the guy, and the Arrow was the overprotective brother Barry never had. Len supposed he should be flattered Barry liked him enough to go against his hero and called the Arrow a paranoid fucker at some point.

“Dig, Dig, you have to see this.” The blonde girl pointed her phone at the arguing superheroes. “Our Barry’s yelling at our Arrow! He’s all grown up!”

“Shouldn’t you be trying to stop them?”

“They’ll be fine.”

They did stop arguing at some point, but it ended with Barry shouting “I don’t need your help” at the Arrow and whisking Len back to the apartment Len shared with Lisa, who was making out with the one and only Cisco Ramon on the couch.

“Oh my god don’t you ever knock?” Lisa whined, wrapping her arms around Ramon’s back to stop him from running away. “Go away. You are so not cockblocking us today.”

“How can he be so - he just shot at you! I don’t care if it was non-lethal. You don’t go around shooting arrows at everyone you just met!” Barry paced around the living room, completely ignoring his surroundings. “Who is he to tell me who I can or cannot trust?”

“Wait, who shot you?” Lisa asked. One of her hands was in Ramon’s pants groping his ass, and that was something Len really didn’t need to see.

“Ol - the Arrow,” Barry said. “I’d asked him for advice! He’d offered to train me! But he just shot Len without a question asked. Did he seriously think as someone from the CCPD I wouldn’t know to check who Len is? I’m not a fucking moron!”

“Dude,” Cisco said with a breathless voice. “You know the Arrow? And you had a fight with him?”

“And defended my honor to him,” Len said with a chuckle. “So very brave, sir Barry Allen.”

Barry stopped dead on his tracks and blushed, his rant long forgotten. “I just - it wasn’t right.”

Len broke into a rare grin and ruffled Barry’s hair. Barry protested half-heartedly, but leaned into his hand, a bashful smile on his face.

“You two please get your own room,” Lisa groaned, buried her face into Ramon’s neck, and started making obnoxiously loud sucking noise. “I’m going to start doing unspeakable things to my scientist, and I really don’t need my brother and his man watching.”

“We aren’t - ” Barry stammered while Len was guiding him out of the door, laughing. “How do you not call what you two are doing _dating_?” he asked incredulously before Len slammed the door closed and took out his key to lock it for them. “How are they not dating? They totally are.”

“Lisa doesn’t like the word ‘dating’, and she thinks ‘boyfriend’ sounds childish.” Len pulled Barry to the elevator. “Come on, you must be starving. Wouldn’t want you to start passing out at random places, would we?”

*

In the end, Barry let the blonde girl - Felicity - help with their investigation. They tracked down Bivolo easily enough with her help. Snow and Felicity theorized Bivolo might be using color to “whammy” people, so they asked Ramon to make them each a pair of sunglasses that filtered out colors. As always, Barry ran them both to his location. It was a little disorientating to navigate through the city in black and white, but they managed, and Bivolo didn’t put up much of a fight

“See, we did fine,” Barry said to Felicity when they were back at the STAR Labs. “Ol - the Arrow has nothing to wo- ” Bivolo elbowed Barry in the guts and broke free of his hold. When Len moved to catch him, he knocked Len’s sunglasses away and flahed his eyes at him. Len cursed and smashed Bivolo’s head against the desk, knocking him out cold.

“Barry, bring us to the pipeline, now,” Len barked out. ”Cisco, prepare another cell that can hold me, quick.”

Bivolo was soon thrown into his own cell, and thankfully it didn’t take much time to make an ice-proof one. Len walked in and for a moment, he wondered if he’d just stepped into his personal jail, but Lisa looked murderous, and Barry looked like a puppy who was repeatedly kicking himself; he supposed he should be more worried about whoever dared suggest them to keep him locked up.

“I’m sorry,” Barry repeated for the eighty-something time. Len had lost counting at around sixty. “I was careless.”

“It’s fine,” Len said. He felt normal enough. “It might not even have any effect on me.”

Snow, Ramon, and Wells were trying to come up with something to reverse the effect, just in case. Lisa and Barry stayed to watch him. It was late, and Barry was drifting off every few minutes. When Lisa started nodding off as well, Len announed that he was going to sleep for a while, and they were welcome to join him.

That was a mistake.

He woke up freezing and his head was a hazy mess. All he could feel was this great anger at the explosion that had made him how he was now, and this unbearable hatred he had for his own body. He clawed his arm open, splattering blood onto his own face, but all he could feel was cold; his blood was cold. His arm was numb. His body wasn’t alive. He felt dead.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Lisa shouted, and Barry jerked awake, horrified.

“I’m dead already!” Len shouted back, and started laughing hysterically. “Fitting, ain’t it? Everyone called me a heartless, cold-blooded bastard; then I literally became one.” Len clawed at his chest. “This doesn’t count as a heart. This is - I’m a monster, an abomination.”

There was a flurry of movement at the corner of his eyes, and suddenly Ramon was opening the door to let Barry in. Then Barry’s hands were on his, holding them in place.

“Stop,” Barry pleaded.

“I fucking hate myself,” Len said with morbid wonder. “I’d never hated myself before, Barry, even when I killed innocent people without feeling any remorse.”

“Don’t.” Barry pushed him against the wall, trapping Len’s hands between their bodies. Len noticed when Barry started shivering, and shoved him away.

“It’s all your fault,” Len said, his voice broken. “You’re just so damn warm and you make me feel normal again, but I’ve never been normal. You should have left me, hated me. I hurt people, Barry. How dare you make me - make me feel like this?”

He wasn’t making much sense, some part of his brain was aware of that. Slowly, he formed a knife in his hand, and raised it. Snow was yelling at Barry to get away already, but Barry didn’t, wasn’t even afraid of him, as if hurting Barry was the last thing Len could possibly do.

 _He was right._ Len choked out a laugh, closed his eyes, and stabbed the knife at his own chest.

He felt blood splattered onto his face, and it was hot, so hot. It didn’t make sense. He opened his eyes, and saw that the knife had went through Barry’s palm. He dropped the knife like he’s been burned and scrambled back, away from Barry, but a slender and surprisingly strong arm wrapped around his waist, and pulled him into a kiss.

It was chaste, close-mouthed, but Len melted into it. He felt something uncoiled at the bottom of his stomach, and his legs suddenly gave out; Barry was there to catch him, and he eased him onto the floor, all the while remaining that single contact of their lips.

“Barry,” Len tried to say. “I can’t - what you want - ”

“Shh,” Barry said quietly, his eyes soft and open. “Later, once we fix this.”

“Something can’t be fixed,” Len muttered.

Barry held Len’s head down and dropped a kiss on the scar across his eyebrow. “Something has never been broken in the first place.”

It was ridiculously simple to reverse the effect of Bivolo’s power. Snow patched Len up. Barry’s hand was healing slower because Len had used a knife made of ice, but it would heal without leaving a scar, just like any other wound Barry had had.

Afterwards, he was tempted to break into Bivolo’s cell and strangled the man himself. Some things weren’t meant to be said, and they could never be unsaid. His only consolation was that Barry seemed unsure if what he’d confessed under influence was real, and didn’t use them against Len. He didn’t pressure Len into talking about it, either, even though he obviously was dying to ask.

“I can't give you what you want,” Len told him a few days later, when they were having pizzas at Len’s place. “I don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Barry asked with a mouth full of pizza. Len snorted and reached out to wipe away the ketchup on the tip of Barry’s nose.

“I don’t love.”

Barry swallowed. “Oh.” He took a gulp of his coke. “What if I don't want that yet?”

“You would eventually.” Len pulled his hand away. “Besides, I have even less to offer you if you were only looking for something physical.”

Barry frowned at him. “How are you so rational about this?”

I’m not, Len wanted to tell him. Letting Barry get close, wanting Barry to stay close, pushing Barry away when he wanted the exact opposite, none of these were rational.

“I’m rational about everything,” was what he said instead.

*

Barry was more reserved around him after that. He didn’t avoid Len, but he didn’t smile as much, or touched as freely now. It was a subtle change, but Len noticed, and after a while, Lisa, too. Len told her about their conversation when she asked, because she’d have gotten it out of him one day. There was no point in hiding from her.

“You fucking moron!” Lisa threw her hands in the air. “Len, I’d never seen you like that with anyone before Barry.”

“I don’t do love,” Len said stubbornly. “Wouldn’t be fair to him.”

“Since when do you care about what is fair? Oh, right, when it comes to Barry.” Lisa let out a deep sigh. “You can be good together, Len. Anyone can see that.”

Len shook his head. “Drop it, Lisa.”

She made a frustrated noise. “You are so stupid.”

They caught metahumans, put them in the pipelines, and investigated the murder of Barry’s mother. They worked well together, as a team. Their ability complimented each other well, and they’d become better and better at reading one another, predicting what the other would do. Sometimes, after a job well done, Barry would turn back to look at Len, his smile a little too bright, his eyes a little too soft, and then he would catch himself, remembering what Len had told him, and his smile faltered. Len hated it, hated the wistful look on Barry’s face, hated how he was the one to put it there.

Len didn’t do regret, either, but sometimes he did regret ever having that conversation with Barry.

*

“You didn’t need to kill him!” Barry yelled, even though there were still needles sticking out of his torso, and he winced every time Snow pulled one out. “You could have just - frozen his arm, anything.”

Len’s brain wasn’t wired to feel panicked. It had been a really long time since the last time he lost control of himself - barred Bivolo. When Barry cried out in pain before collapsing onto the ground, and Eiling pulled a gun on him, however, Len snapped. The next thing he knew, they were in a thick wall of ice, Eiling was frozen from head to toe, and Barry was shouting at him to stop.

“Do you expect me to feel bad,” Len said from the doorway, “about the death of a man who had killed, had tortured, and was going to do both to you?”

“You didn’t even hesitate - ”

“I’ve told you before, and I’m going to tell you again, Barry.” Len strode to Barry’s side, glaring at the quickly closing holes on his body. “I only stopped doing crimes because I’ve lost interest in them. I didn’t become a good person, and I certainly wouldn’t feel bad for killing someone who had hurt you.”

Snow looked at him a little uncomfortably, and Ramon had left the room with Lisa. Only God knew where Wells was right now, talking with Raymond and Stein about their conditions, perhaps.

“Then why? Why the hell am I so special to you?” Barry choked out a sound that was terribly similar to a sob. “You don’t love. You hurt people. You kill without remorse. Why am I any different? How do I know you wouldn’t turn your back on us, on me one day?”

It was possible, wasn’t it? That had always been what he was afraid of, that he would somehow betray Lisa or Barry one day, that he would actively hurt them, and feel nothing. But when he thought about the possibilities, when he thought about the aftermath, all he felt were fear and disgust.

“Because, Barry, God help me, you make it bearable for me to live.” Len let out a broken laugh. It sounded about right. It hurt him to admit it, and he had always been bad at honesty. “So, no, I wouldn’t betray you.”

Barry stared at him in stunned silence, his eyes wide and mouth agape. Len laid a hand on Barry’s chest, feeling his stuttering heartbeats under his palm.

“Would you react differently, if I used a gun to kill him?” Len asked, his voice low and gentle. “How would you react, if detective West shot him to save you, like he was going to with Clay Mardon? How would you react if it was Iris?”

Len didn’t wait for Barry to answer before he continued, “What difference did it make, that I used my power instead of a weapon? It wasn’t about that, though, was it? It was about me, about me being a criminal with no heart. You said you knew me, trusted me, but you’ve never gotten over my past, have you? It was easy to overlook it, when I never did anything to remind you.”

Barry opened his mouth to say something, but words seemed to have abandoned him. Len huffed, reaching out to touch Barry’s face for perhaps the last time.

“You are such a hypocrite, Barry. I don’t even know why I like you.”

And it was such a lie. Len knew why he liked Barry. He knew exactly what he liked about Barry, and the list had grown exponentially longer over the past few months, at an alarmingly fast pace.

“Goodnight, Barry,” he said with a smile that was surprisingly genuine, considering the circumstances. When he turned around to leave, it felt oddly final, and he could almost feel his heart hardening like a physical thing, as if the coldness in him was adding layers and layers of ice around it.

 _Good_ , he thought, maybe he would finally stop caring.

“I love you,” came Barry’s voice, and it was unfair; it was so unfair how Barry could destroy his walls in an instant with only three words, how Barry could make any argument he’d had obsolete with a simple sentence. _What he wanted you couldn’t give_ , Len told himself again, but he couldn’t stop himself from stopping, couldn’t stop the ice around his heart from cracking, couldn’t stop the hopeful feeling from rising.

“I love you,” Barry said again, softer, but steadier. Len found himself walking toward him, almost involuntarily, like he was dreamwalking, like his body had had enough of him, and decided to do whatever it wanted to do.

“I love you, fuck, I love you. I didn’t know what to do. You said you don’t do that, but I just, I don’t care anymore.” Len was faintly aware of the fact that Snow had finished pulling needles out of Barry, and had left the room at some point. When, he wadn’t really sure. “Doesn’t matter if you do. You care about me more than most people who claimed to love me ever did. You’ve done too much, risked too much for me. It’s got to be enough. It’s got to be.”

“Barry - ”

“I love you, Len,” Barry whispered, and broke into a blinding smile. “I’m in love.” He was suddenly giddy, giggling like Len imagined he would if Iris returned his feelings, but instead, he was happy because he loved _Len_ , even though Len couldn’t love him back. “And it never needed to end. I can love you forever.” Barry reached out for Len, and Len took his hand easily as if they had done this a million times before. “Lie down with me?”

And how could he say no again? How could he ever say no to Barry again? Barry shifted to the side to make more room for Len, and Len toed off his shoes before lying down next to him. The heat of Barry’s body was almost overwhelming when he wrapped his arms around Len’s torso, but Len was willing to be burned alive, if he could just stay here, at this moment.

“I’m sorry,” Barry said, his breaths tickling Len’s neck.

“I’m sorry for making it difficult for you,” Len replied, slipping his fingers into Barry’s hair. “But I can never be sorry for saving you, Barry. I can never be sorry that you live.”

“I know.” Barry pressed a kiss under his chin. “I know.”

*

Their relationship, if it could even be called that, was strange, Len was well aware of that. They didn’t have sex. They didn’t kiss. They didn’t do anything they hadn’t already been doing before. Nothing had changed since Barry’s confession, and yet everything felt different, somehow. It was as if a veil had been lifted, and they could finally see each other properly.

“It’s like you’ve skipped all the flirting and dating and go straight into old married couple territory,” Lisa said to him a week later. “But you keep looking at each other and smiling like newlyweds.”

“I don’t smile like that.”

Lisa rolled her eyes at him. “Sorry to break it to you, Len, but you are worse than Barry.”

Ramon not so subtly pointed out all the blind spots of surveillance cameras in STAR Labs to him. Snow implied that she might have been working on a way for them to have sex. Wells always looked like he was planning something when he saw Len, to which Len pretended to be oblivious.

Iris sort of ambushed him and Barry when they were talking about dinner.

“Come on, you love trivia nights. It’d be fun.”

“You do realize Eddie is a detective, right? Like Joe?”

“Don’t worry so much, Barry. He knows already.”

Eddie Thawne was surprisingly accepting of all these. “It’s how you look at him,” he’d said. “I don’t know if I can trust you, but I know I can trust you with him.” Len frowned, because everyone seemed to think they knew him better than he did himself. Barry chuckled and smoothed his finger over Len’s eyebrows; he could only smiled in return, ignoring the cooing sound Iris was making.

He snorted when he heard their team name, and Barry’s eyes lighted up in delight. For the most part, Barry did just fine without any outside help, so Len didn’t say much except for letting Barry bounce his ideas off him. Iris got one about previous Pulitzer winners, and another about coffee beans. Thawne looked confused for the most part, but somehow knew what the Latin word for facefucking was. (“ _What_?” he said with a faint blush. “I’ve read Catullus. He’s famous.”)

“What is the fiftieth number after decimal in Pi?” The host asked, and there were a lot of groaning happening all around the tables.

“Oh, come on,” Barry whined. “That was just cheap.”

Len thought for a moment before taking the tablet from Barry and typed out the answer. Barry’s eyebrows jumped up when the host announced that they had earned a point, and broke into a wide grin.

“Is it weird that I’m a little turned on right now?” Barry asked, leaning into him, and laughed brightly when Len shoved him away with an eyeroll. Len couldn’t help but pulled Barry back into his arms and aggressively ruffled Barry’s hair.

They didn’t win the game in the end, but the night went much better than he’d expected. They walked on the street side by side after they parted with Iris and Thawne, even though Barry could have brought Len back home in seconds. Barry hadn’t stopped smiling since the night started, and Len wondered how Barry felt right now. What was it about love that made people happy about the most trivial of things? Would Len ever be able to feel like that?

“You’re happy.”

“I am,” Barry said easily, and turned to look at him. “Aren’t you?”

“It’s hard to tell these days,” Len admitted. “But I feel warm.”

Barry caught his eyes. “Good,” he said, leaning in to drop a light kiss on Len’s nose. Len looked at him a little incredulously, because who did that? Barry chuckled, bumping their shoulders together. “I’m glad.”


	4. of Future

Accidents started happening around Len. At first it was the small things; flat tires, elevators malfunctioning, pot plants falling from above. Then it became gas leaks that almost caused an explosion, falling billboard that could have killed him had he not been a metahuman, and brake failure that left him with a broken leg and a mild concussion.

“Is it possible for a meta to have the ability to curse you?” Ramon suggested, but sounded dubious himself. They had been dealing with impossible things, but luck? Luck had no scientific bases, and magic was too fantastical for any of them to believe. Someone was trying to get rid of him, Len was sure of it. Why they didn’t just do it, though, he didn’t know yet.

“I’m staying with you,” Barry said, lips thin.

Len tried to talk him out of it, but he knew it wouldn’t work before he even said anything. He took Barry to one of the safehouse he had before everything, and did a routine sweep for bugs and cameras before waving Barry in.

"I'd offer you a drink, but I'm afraid I don't have any to offer."

"It's fine." Barry got himself a glass of water and gulped it down. "Shower?"

Len raised an eyebrow. “Is that an invitation?”

Barry choked on the water and started coughing. Len clapped on his back soothingly, laughing.

“You’re an ass,” Barry mumbled after he’d stopped coughing. “I was only asking you where your bathroom was.”

“I know, Barry,” Len said between laughter. “I just can’t help it.”

“I’m going to take a shower,” Barry said vehemently. “Then I’m going to jerk off in the bathroom and come yelling your name.”

It was Len’s turn to choke this time. He suspected he’d have blushed if it had been physically possible for him to do so. “God, Barry.” The image of a naked Barry came into his mind, and he groaned in frustration. At that moment, there was nothing he wanted more than going down on Barry, watching him come undone, hearing him call out Len’s name like he’d promised. “You are a cruel man.”

“Oh, I thought you, um, didn’t want that either.” Barry’s eyes were wide, like he couldn’t believe Len wanted him, which was stupid, because Len wanted Barry every way he could, and he really wanted to take everything Barry had to offer without worrying about what he could give in return.

“Anything, Barry,” Len whispered against Barry’s lips, looking into his eyes, watching the way they darkened as his pupils dilated. “For hours. For days. As long as you want.”

Barry gulped. “Maybe we should try.”

*

Len had learned three things about himself. First, his body was really, really cold. Second, his body got even colder when he was aroused. Third, it was hard to control his power when he was aroused.

Len had also learned three things about Barry. First, his body was really, really warm. Second, his body ran even hotter when he was aroused. Third, he wasn’t that great at controlling his power when he was aroused, either.

There were patches of frostbite left on Barry’s skin, and burn marks and blisters on Len’s body. They called it quits soon after that, pulling away from each other, watching, as they brought themselves off. It shouldn’t have been enough, but Len felt this unfamiliar ectasy filling up his chest, and when Barry moaned out his name, fighting to keep his eyes open so that he could hold Len’s gaze, Len was suddenly aware of his own erratic heartbeat, his quickening breathing, and feelings he’d never thought he had.

It was like someone had found the mute button of his heart and unmuted it; the emotions that had once been quiet even before the explosion bursted out and all but yelled at him, telling him what a giant idiot he had been, and Len did feel like a complete moron, because how could he not realize?

“Fuck, I think I love you,” Len breathed out, feeling lighter than he’d ever been. He looked up and found Barry frozen to the spot, as still as a statue. “Tell me how it feels for you, Barry, please.” He glided his finger across Barry’s chest, featherlight, and Barry came back alive, surging forward to kiss him, hot wet tongue pushing into his mouth, fingers digging into his back. Len’s hand came to the nape of Barry’s neck to pull him closer, thumbs pressing into his neck, feeling both their stuttering pulses.

When they broke away from each other, Barry’s lips were purple with frost, and Len’s an angry red, but it felt right, somehow. It felt right even though their very physiologies were keeping them apart, even though it hurt to touch each other. Maybe it always hurt. Maybe it should hurt.

“It’s maddening, how I can’t stop thinking about you,” Barry said, finger trailing the line of Len’s jaw. “I want to see you smile.” He mapped the shape of Len’s bottom lip and shuddered when Len took his finger into his mouth, sucking. “I want to make you laugh.” He pulled his finger out, shiny with spit, and glided it down his body with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I want to give you everything I can give. I want to take anything you can offer.” He traced his finger slowly around the rim of his ass, his breath hitched as he teased himself open before slipping his finger in, and Len could only stared, entranced, wanting nothing more than to feel the heat himself. “Your hands are cold but they make my heart burn. I want them on me, in me.” Barry moaned as he fucked himself with a finger, making his spent cock jump and quickly grow hard. “I want to fall asleep with you and wake up with your body pressed against mine, consequences be damned. I want to kiss you good morning and good night, feeling your lips on mine even after we’ve parted.”

“God, Barry,” Len groaned. It was rare for him to be rendered speechless, but he didn’t know what he should say right now, didn’t know what he could say. “Fuck.” He gave in to his urge and bent down to lick a broad stroke over Barry’s chest. Barry gasped and arched into his mouth. “How do you know? How could I know?”

He was incoherent, head spinning with lust and overwhelming warmth, but Barry understood him anyway. “Do you like being with me?” he asked, bucking his hip against Len’s thigh.

“Of course I do.” Len gently nipped on Barry’s nipple, rolling the other between his thumb and forefinger, feeling them hardening.

“Do you want to be with me?”

Barry gently traced his fingertip along Len’s spine, and Len shuddered. “Ached for,” Len said against his skin. “Not seeing you is torture.” He took a deep breath when he felt his fingertips tingling, trying his best to restrain his power. He tempted down his arousal, and focused on Barry.

“Do you want to be with anyone other than me?”

“No.”

“Do you want to see me with someone other than you?”

“Not particularly."

“What do you think when you think about the future?”

Len left a trail of wet kisses down his abs and blew a cold breath over the damp skin. Barry shuddered and moaned out loud as his hand vibrated like it had a mind of its own. Len wanted to felt that hand around him, in him, even if he’d be burned by it.

“This,” Len murmured. “You.”

He took the head of Barry’s cock into his mouth and Barry came shouting Len’s name, pulling his finger out with an obscene pop. His whole body was trembling and vibrating like there was something trying to break free. Len swallowed down his cum and pulled away, committing everything into his memory; the taste and burn of Barry in his mouth, the feel of Barry’s body against his, and the way Barry looked up at him, with awe in his eyes as if Len was the one who should be worshipped instead of the other way around, as if Len was something beautiful.

“I feel the same,” Barry said, lips curled into a soft smile Len couldn’t stop himself from tasting, wouldn’t want to even if he could.

“That’s it?” Len asked in a whisper. “That simple?”

Barry laid his hand on Len’s chest, said, “Everyone loves differently, Len,” and wrapped himself in the blanket, snuggling close to Len, his forehead on Len's shoulder with a thin layer of cloth in between.

Len held Barry in his arms, careful not to touch without the blanket as a barrier. He let his hands wonder, carassing Barry’s back through the thin fabric. He was fine with it, Len realized. Indirect contacts were more than enough for him.

“I’m investing in a good dildo,” Len said into Barry’s hair. “You can vibrate on your own.”

Barry's answering laugh was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard.

*

It was Iris who gave him the first piece of evidence supporting his doubts about Wells. She’d befriended a journalist named Mason, and was shown a footage of Wells leaving Stagg’s office the night he went missing. The vital information here for Len wasn’t so much the possibility that Wells had killed Stagg, but the possibility that Wells was able to kill Stagg.

His second piece of evidence came from Souci, who walked past him on the street and dropped a stack of photos into his arms without stopping. Everyone of them featured him and his mysterious tail that had been engineering all the “accidents” happening around him. It was the man in the yellow suit.

His third piece of evidence was Mark Mardon, who tried to knock him out with a large hailstone - jokes on him for failing to do his research. Len managed to make a dome of ice over their head to stop Mardon the older brother from using his power without much injury. Mardon said he was only doing this to get Clay out of their fucked up prison, and bit out a “because he was too quick” when Len asked him why he didn’t just threaten whoever promised him to let Clay out.

The pipeline wasn’t common knowledge, and of all the people who knew about it, it wasn’t hard for him to pick out the most likely answer.

He had a theory.

He started the recording and went down to the containment room to turn the forcefield on. He cursed at himself when he saw the man in yellow repeating himself again and again. He should have realized earlier. He’d been using the same trick in his heists for years.

“Ah, I expected to find Cisco here,” Wells’ voice came from behind his back, and Len quickly shot an bolt of ice at him before he’d fully turned around, but Wells dodged it with ease, his wheelchair long abandoned.

“He would have,” Len said, slowly spreading frost from where he was standing. “Why now? You had the chance to let me die, and plenty of opportunities to kill me.”

“You had been useful,” Well said with a shrug. “But then you became a threat.”

“Ah, you flattered me, again. I would say I was merely an inconvenience. You could have continued your lies if you hadn’t been trying so hard to get rid of me.”

“If only it was that simple.” Wells approached him, his steps deliberately slow. “You are a mistake, Snart. You never should have happened, never should have been with Barry.”

“A mistake like Norah Allen?” Len asked, and all of a sudden Wells was merely inches away from him, snatching the recorder out of his pocket with a condescending smile.

“Ah, the things people do for love.” Wells crushed the recorder. “I hadn’t plan to kill her, you know. She was just… there.”

“Who was you planning to kill, then?” Len took a step forward. “Henry Allen? Or - ” An absurd thought came to his mind. “You wanted to kill Barry.”

“I want to kill Barry,” Wells corrected, and it was all Len needed as motivation to kill this man. He froze Wells’ feet to the floor and stabbed at his chest with an ice blade, but his hand went right through it; it was only an illusion, a mirage. He immediately set up a wall around him, but he wasn’t fast enough. Well’s hand went through his chest, and had only missed his heart by an inch because of his ice.

“I was going to give you a clean and quick death because of everything you’d done for us,” Wells said as he twisted his hand around in Len’s chest, dragging a cry of pain out of Len’s mouth. “Why did you have to make it hard for both of us?”

Len bit his tongue to stop himself from passing out and caught Wells’ arm before Wells could pull away. “Your mistake,” Len spat and froze Wells’s arm in his chest. He could feel his power losing control as his concentration slipped. It wasn’t a bad way to go, he thought to himself. At least his death would mean something.

But then Wells cut his goddamn hand off with his other hand, and Len wanted to laugh, because just how much did the world hate him? He wasn’t cheating his way out of a deal this time. He was giving his life in order to take a life, but it just had to go wrong, had to make his sacrifice a joke. He fell to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut off, choking on his own blood, his vision blurring, darkening.

“Goodbye, Mr. Snart,” Wells said from above him, his raised hand vibrating.

At that brief moment, Len hoped Barry had never fallen in love with him.

He watched as Wells moved his hand to Len’s neck, movement slow as if to mock him, but then a red blur bursted in and twisted Well’s forearm around. Len would have had a good laugh at how Wells’ eyes widened as his own hand went through his own neck, almost cutting his head off, if there hadn’t been a fucking arm in Len’s chest.

For a moment Barry just stared at Wells’ lifeless body, murmuring “I killed him” over and over again, his whole body trembling, his breathing quick and shallow. Len mustered all the strength he had, however little, and shot a bolt of ice at Wells.

“Barry,” he croaked. “I killed him, okay? I killed him.”

“Len.” Barry’s hand was on Len’s chest in an instance, desparate and helpless. “Fuck, I - ” He was trembling, and there was blood splattered all over his face. Len wanted to wipe his cheeks clean, but couldn’t quite lift his hand. “Stay with me, Len, I’m gonna - ” He was away for a second before he brought Snow in, who gasped when she saw Len, took off her burning shirt, and rushed to Len’s side, not caring about the fact she was only in her undergarments. And then Lisa was here, her eyes filled with horror Len had sworn to keep out of her. Then there was Ramon, who yelped out “Is that a fucking hand in his chest?” but quickly joined Snow at her side to help.

The last person Barry brought back was Iris, who Len suspected was here more for Barry’s sake than Len’s. Barry stumbled to Len’s side, holding his hand tight, burning, keeping him conscious.

It was a long and excruciating process, extracting the arm out of Len’s body, sealing the hole on his chest. He bucked and struggled and shot ice out from every part of his body, but Snow kept on applying prosthetic tissues onto his open wound, Ramon kept on pressing on his shoulders, Lisa kept on holding down his hip, Barry kept on gripping his right hand, and Iris the other.

When the operation was done, everyone in the room was suffering from various degree of frostbite, and Len wanted to yell at them for that, but he passed out before he could say anything.

*

Detective West came to deal with Wells’ body with his partner at some point. It was the first time he came face to face with the man who brought up Barry.

“I have Wells’ confession,” Len said before West could say anything, his voice hoarse and weak. “Cisco would find it in his laptop.” The recorder Wells had destroyed was only one of the many recorders Len had on himself. He’d also streamed what had been recorded straight to Cisco’s laptop, his own laptop, and various cloud services in case Wells had been more careful than he had expected.

West seemed a little taken aback, but he quickly recovered. “You were doing an awful lot for Barry.”

Len only shrugged. He was too tired to prove his intentions to anyone.

“He’s been happy,” West said after a pregnant silence. “I’m not sure I like all the things you’ve inspired in him, but he’s happy.”

Len huffed. “I would never ask him to kill for me, detective.” And god, Barry had killed a man - two if he counted Farooq - for him, albeit not intentionally. He felt a lump forming in his throat, and resolutely swallowed it down. “How’s he?”

“Forced to put some food in him before he faints,” West said with fond exasperation. “When he loves he doesn’t do it halfway, Snart.”

“Is this the part where you tell me you know a hundred ways to dispose of my body?”

West’s answering grin was sharp and fierce.

“This is the part where I tell you there wouldn’t even be a body left to be disposed of.”

*

He watched the red blur pacing right outside the door for a whole ten minutes before he called out, “Barry, get your ass in before I get a whiplash, okay?” and then the blur turned into Barry’s face with a grave expression that made Len’s stomach dropped.

“Bad news?” he asked with a fake calmness.

“What?” Barry stopped to meet his eyes. “Jesus, Len, I’m not leaving you or anything.” His face turned indignant when Len let out a barely audible sigh of relief. He climbed onto the bed, resting his head against Len’s arm. “It’s just - I didn’t even think. I couldn’t. It was Wells and I hadn’t even known, hadn’t heard what he’d admitted to. Shouldn’t I have hesitated?”

Len turned his face to the side to face Barry, burying his face into Barry’s hair and breathed. “I would have been dead if you had hesitated.”

“I know, but - ” Barry let out a shuddering breath. “Fuck, you were right, I am a hypocrite.”

Len shook his head, hands splayed on Barry’s back, holding him close. “You regret, you mourn, you doubt yourself. You’re not a killer, Barry. You won’t allow yourself to stop feeling like this.”

“I hope you’re right,” Barry mumbled into his neck, his voice broken.

“I’m always right,” Len replied, and kissed his forehead.

*

They discovered Wells’ secret room after Len was feeling well enough to leave the bed. They found out about his real identity and motivation. Len felt like the air had been sucked out of the room when the possibility of time travel was confirmed. Was this how it would end? Would they be mere acquaintance or bitter enemy? Or worse, would he never have met Barry?

“Len, listen to me, I wouldn’t change a thing, okay?” Barry reassured him with a light kiss on his lips. “I have to say goodbye, but I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“Don’t promise me, Barry,” Len said, and he hated how desparate he sounded, hated how afraid he felt. “Don’t stay because of a promise and grow to despise me.”

“Len - ”

“Scarlet.”

Barry let out a sigh and brought Len’s hand to his chest. “I was devastated when I lost my mom, Len, but this life, growing up with Iris and Joe, meeting Lisa, Cisco and Caitlin, knowing you, fallling in love with you - ” Barry smiled, and if it weren’t the most beautiful thing Len’d ever seen in his life, he didn’t know what was. “I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

They waited. All of them staring at the portal Barry had created and gone through. Lisa was glaring at the hole in the air, as if daring Barry to not come out. Caitlin and Cisco were staring at the clock counting down how little time Barry had left. Iris and Thawne were talking in a low voice, their fingers intertwined. Joe West was on phone with Henry Allen, somehow having a conversation without words through the line.

Len waited, counting seconds in his head with his eyes shut. One minute and fifty-two seconds. It was time he’d been accustomed to pulling a job in, but now every second felt like an hour, and a minute a year. When he counted to a minute and twenty seconds, he was barely breathing.

Then he heard footsteps.

Deliberately slow, light but free of hesitation, approaching, bringing with them the familiar and comforting heat. Len held his breath, waiting, terrified of what he’d see if he dared open his eyes, but Barry had always been the braver one between the two of them, had always been the one more connected to his own heart.

He felt warm lips grazing over his. His eyes fluttered open and found Barry looking back at him, eyes filled with tears but warm and loving. Len sucked in a shaky breath before grabbing Barry’s neck and kissed him, plunging his tongue into the searing heat. Barry opened up for him easily, and let him take whatever he wanted, whatever he needed.

“I’m back,” Barry said with a grin when Len finally let go of him, his lips purple and swollen.

Len leaned in to rest his forehead against Barry’s, pulling his burned lips into a smile.

“Welcome back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the end, at least for now. There are a lot of things I've thought about but left unexplained. Maybe this should have been longer, but I don't really have the time these days to flesh it out. The result is this somewhat disjointed string of events. I've always been more interested in the characters, though, and I've tried my best to cover the arc of the characters and the relationships.  
> I might write more in this world in the future, since I'm very fond of who they are in this universe. I've also always wanted to write about the rehabilitation process of the inmates in the pipelines. I'm still not sure if I'd prefer to set it in the show or this verse, but if I'm gonna write something, that would probably be it - once I have the time, that is.


End file.
